


The Basement

by My_Write_Life



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison goes through it, Danny is briefly present, Deaton Mentioned - Freeform, Derek is bad at feelings, F/M, Gerard mentioned, Jackson and Lydia are mentioned, Kate mentioned, M/M, No Alpha Pack, Peter is briefly present, Scott goes through it, Stiles being a bad ass, The Sheriff is a Badass, The alpha pack and darach happened off screen in another town, compliant with season with the exception of the alpha pack, the Argent’s getting what they deserve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-14 17:50:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14141301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Write_Life/pseuds/My_Write_Life
Summary: Stiles doubles back to the Argent’s house to free Erica and Boyd before making it back home. In which Stiles, not forgetting all about Erica and Boyd very much remaining in the basement saves them, Derek and Peter killing Jackson does make him go through the process of rebirth but he is brought back human and not a werewolf. Allison and her family go through the very legal repercussions of abducting three teenagers and Scott and Stiles friendship is put on hold because of that. Derek’s still the alpha.





	The Basement

Jackson is alive, despite Lydia’s love bringing back and Stiles heart shattering it doesn’t quite hit him too hard as Boyd’s shoulder warmly touches his and Erica’s bloodied hand grasps his arm, a comfort in a moment filled with the very real weight of heart break, Gerard Argent’s death and Allison and Scott’s betrayal, though for _two_ very different reasons and the Jeep. 

He looks back at the wreckage of his mother’s Jeep and feels heartbroken all over again. If it runs, and Stiles prays for his dads sake more than his own that it will, Stiles will most certainly not be behind the wheel of it any time soon if ever. It had been a privilege that his father had given him and he’d now officially ruined any and all trust or respect out of his father the moment he’s plowed through the wall of the building probably destroying it.

And all for Lydia to save Jackson or so he’d imagined, making his peace the moment the car ran through the wall. He’d seen Derek, Scott on Allison at her father’s side, a dead Gerard, a very much alive Peter Hale and an injured Isaac sluggishly bleeding. Whatever he, Erica and Boyd seemed to have missed from the moment the three of them had been kidnapped and tortured to the moment Stiles had been let free only to return to the basement to free them which eventually led them to this particular point in time with Lydia, seemed monumental. 

“What happens now?” Stiles eyes landed on Scott who was too busy looking at Allison notice the very real bruises on Stiles face, was met with no response. Nothing new but still infuriating since the two began their perilous romantic entanglement but now it was stemmed with so much more negativity. “Scott!”

”Oh, sorry man.” Scott’s attention is finally on Stiles silently taking inhis bruised face guiltily. “Hey, you okay?”

”Hey, you actually give a crap?” Erica pantomimed, grasp warmly and tightening slightly. Stiles looks down at the blondes matted dirty head. “Seriously McCall, how can you even ask that? You know where we were.”

”Stiles was with you?” Scott lies lamely, he’d never been a very good liar at the best of times. Stiles won’t let it get to him. Yet. “I mean, it...looks bad yeah, but you’ll heal?”

”Your girlfriends grandfather beat him to unconsciousness, broke what I’m assuming is a few ribs and his pinky fingers and it’s cool cuz he’ll heal. No, it’s fine, I mean I get it since your girlfriend told his geriatric ass not to permanently damage or kill him so it’s fine. But you knew that, didn’t you.”

It’s blatant, accusatory and by the looks passing on Allison and Scott’s face, it happens to be totally true. Derek’s brows rise high on his forehead as he braces Isaac who stares dumbfounded at Scott, Peter looks on unsurprisingly neutral apart from the scissoring tick of the claws or his right index and right middle fingers, Chris Argent stares at the back of Allison’s head.

Jackson barks a laugh, it sounds nervous, unhinged and mean causing Lydia to stifle a nervous giggle bordering on the hysteric. Jackson extricates himself from Lydia’s hold but does take her hand, nude and covered in blood and gashes that aren’t healing.

”That’s so screwed up McCall. Aren’t you a loser with like one friend?” It comes out the way every mean spirited insult always does out of Jackson but with actual heat this time. He almost tips forward and Boyd, who moved far to silently and quickly, grabs hold of him. “I think I need to get to a hospital.”

”Are you human?” Allison asks quickly enough that Lydia takes a defensive stance in front of him eyeing the blades in Allison’s hand.

”Pretty much, I think. I feel normal.” He turns to Stiles. “That piece of junk working? I really think I might be bleeding out.”

* * *

Saturday.

Satudays, before life went to hell, were usually spent at home in the kitchen baking for Mrs. Havendish next door, with Scott in front of the TV or lying on the sofa reading. Since everything went to hell Stiles’ Saturday’s are spent in the kitchen baking for Mrs. Havendish, reading on the sofa, ignoring the pain in his leg and the itch beneath his cast and doing research by himself. When Mrs. Havendish asks him to stay over a bit longer Stiles is grateful for the distraction.

He has tea with the sixty three year old woman, gets home by one thirty and spends the rest of the day doing bits of research. It’s lonely but nothing new and bitterly, it’s been lonely since Scott and Allison had begun dating lonelier whenever the couple had come around for a peaceful place to be together. This Saturday, the Saturday after Gerard and everything else is the loneliest for Stiles though he isn’t really expecting much.

What else is new?

Saturday is lonely, his father doesn’t come home or call but leaves an annoyingly short text; _Staying in. Be good_.

Stiles doesn’t have a vehicle, no one ever calls him, his best and only friend is too busy being a romantic tragedy to give Stiles a proper call to check on him so of course Stiles is going to be good. There aren’t any other options.

* * *

Scott eventually calls, instead of asking Stiles is he’s been getting better, about his leg or to explain his actual part in Gerard’s plan, which would have been expected, Stiles is instead bombarded with Scott’s wild panic. 

“Scott slow down.” Stiles turns towards his clock radio and sees that it is four am and groans. What would have been a good nights sleep since his night in the basement is shot to hell. “What happened?” Stiles switches the light on, blinded for half a second.

”Allison and her dad were arrested!”

”What?” This has Stiles attention. He sits up too quickly and almost falls sideways out of bed, the ache in his bad leg coming to a full force stinging. “Shit!”

”I know!” Scott weaves into the phone.

 

”Did she call you?” Stiles doesn’t say Allison’s name, can’t bring himself to like her even a little bit enough to use her name.

”I was with her. I mean, we were in her room talking about us when someone bangs on her front door asking for her and her dad.” Scotts’s panic is palpable. “She’s in jail, Stiles. I don’t get it.”

‘Where she deserves to be,’ Stiles doesn’t say instead he begins rambling on about Allison having done nothing wrong and how they’ll be let off. Maybe it had something to do with Gerard's body? Stiles is almost certain that this is what it’s about, after all, the old man died mysteriously with something in his system. When Scott is consoled enough to get off the phone the sun is peeking through the blinds, he throws himself back and hates his life.

Scott had not asked how Stiles was doing once.

* * *

 “I don’t want to talk about it.”

”...look kid, there isn’t really much to talk about. Its all there on the tapes and the other two that were with you gave their statements.”

”Then I don’t have to talk about it?”

Deputy Mitchum, a man Stiles had known so long he was considered family, looked sympathetic. It was an expression that reminded Stiles of the night his mother died. Back then Deputy Mitchum and his father had been partners. Stiles remembers Deputy Mitchum kneeling in front of him and holding eye contact, now Stiles knows that it was to keep his mother out of sight as Stiles father, having run straight through from the lobby, crouched over her sobbing silently.

Its the same expression.

”You might,” Deputy Mitchum clears his thought, his eyes looking over Stiles and lingering on the thin pink scar at the right side of Stiles jaw. “I don’t know why you don’t want to.”

Of course he doesn’t get it. From Deputy Mitchum’s possition there is video tapped evidence of Stiles, Erica and Boyd being strung up and tortured. Of Erica and Boyd being electrocuted and Stiles being beaten whenever he spoke up in defense of them, of Gerard beating and kicking him, of the big one that Gerard called Brady stomping on his leg until something cracked and ruining it.

Of another video, a security camera showing Allison just outside of the door, of her giving the orders not to kill him but to make him more...amenable to answer their questions.

Chris Argent had been let go just as Stiles had been brought in. Now, knowing why he was brought in to begin with the sad expression the sorry expression of Chris Argent’s face makes no sense. Argent should be angry, should have looked mad enough for his daughter to spite fire.

But he’d looked apologetic. Of course, Stiles recounts code, hunters hunt only those who spill human blood. Neither Erica, Boyd or Derek had, not intentionally anyway and Stiles was human.

In the end Stiles gives an abridged version of the events and oddly it seemed to match up pretty well with what Erica and Boyd had said only differing in the beginning obviously. Stiles was kidnapped from the field by Gerard Argent, he was beaten and tortured, had watched as Erica and Boyd were tortured. He was aware that he’d been in the Argent’s basement. They let him go but kept Erica and Boyd, he’d gone back and freed them had decided to find Derek-also called in-only to find Gerard dead.

Stiles jeep being totaled and the ruined warehouse wall? Summed up to his bum leg, no more questions.

Had he seen Allison? Not at the beginning but he’d heard her voice through the door, which was actually true only at the time Stiles had thought that he was hallucinating because Allison would never be that cruel.

When they’re done all Stiles can do, as he leans his forehead on the cold plastic tabletop, is that Scott will never forgive him.

* * *

 “How could you do it?” Scott is sat on Stiles bed when he gets back, his shoulders hunched forward, defeated.

“Do what? Tell the truth?” Stiles shuts the door and leans against it, weary and in pain. 

“She’s being charged, Allison could go to prison!”

”Juvie Scott, she’d go to juvie.”

”But she didnt do anything.” Scott lays back and stares at the ceiling. “Gerard was controlling her, he was lying about her mom.”

”Bullshit.” It comes out harder than Stiles would have liked but it had the affect he’d wanted. Scott goes preternaturally still. “He wasn’t controlling her like he controlled Jackson. Allison knows right from wrong.”

”But Derek bit her mom!”

”To _save_ you!” Stiles rubs his eyes hard seeing stars behind his dark lids. “If you’d both stopped thinking with your genitls none of this would have happened. If you’d listened to Derek and stopped thinking with your dick, none of this would have happened. Do you see a theme?”

”What the fuck Stiles.” Scott sits up, eyes flaring yellow, and points a clawed finger. “Let’s get this straight, if I’d never listened to you then none of this would have happened.”

”Oh really?” Stiles push’s himself off the door. “You think Allison would have noticed you sitting on the bench?” 

Scott says nothing as he gets up and goes to the door but he does weasel out a bit about Stiles being wrong in a way that he doesn’t fully believe before departing. When the front door slams shut Stiles wills himself to ignore the hot boiling sense of betrayal. 

Scott still hadn't asked how Stiles was doing.

* * *

Erica helps Stiles down the hall, holding him around the waist and patiently keeping with his steps. Isaac holds his books and asks him questions about class, even getting Stiles to promise tutoring and Boyd says nothing for the longest moment before hugging him and telling him that he looks better before steering him to his old table at lunch. They bring him his food.

Scott looks betrayed but sad, not straying from Allison who’d been let out on bail two days before. She looks sadly at Stiles like she might want to apologize but whenever Derek’s pack are around him, and as they are often, she glares at them proving to Stiles that she isn't exactly sorry.

Not really.

Being sorry that you’ve been caught or being sorry that you’re being misunderstood-because of course Allison probably believes that what she did she had to do despite Stiles being hurt-and was something he just couldn’t understand.

Stiles understood well enough that Allison was being a hypocrite, that she might one day go crazy like her aunt, that Scott was an idiot to think that one day Allison wouldn't take him down when she did go crazy like Kate.

But what can you do? There was no way talking Scott out of the line of fire but now, with the way Scott seemed to act utterly betrayed whenever Stiles was with the pack, there was nothing that could be said.

Or should be said.

”It is what it is.” Isaac leaned forward to steal a tater-tot, popping it in his mouth with a rueful grin. “Shame that it is...he’s really cute.”

”Really? Look at his chin, how is that cute?”

”Its cute.” Stiles says in defense of Scott despite everything. “Scott’s always been cute. Look at him, how could you not think so?”

Erica shrugs.

”Not my type. I either like the little nerdy ones,” She winks at Stiles who is sat directly across from her. “Or the big, silent meaty ones.” She pops a kiss on Boyd’s cheek who, non pulsed, wipes her lipgloss off with a napkin. “Puppy dog eyes, the boy next door thing isnt for me.”

”To each their own I guess.”

”Yeah. To each their own.”

 “How you holding up?” Boyd finally speaks jutting his chin in Scott’s direction. “You two aren’t...” He makes a motion with his hands, uncomfortable. 

“We’re not talking at the moment.” 

Speaking against Scott’s girlfriend in his statement, calling Scott out on his bullshit, being bitter and in pain and knowing that Allison had known that Stiles and the others were being tortured and in Stiles case severely beaten for information and that Stiles was unwilling to forgive Allison enough for Scott’s benefit to somehow get her out of the trouble she was now in? Yeah, they were most assuredly not talking.

”He’ll get over it. I mean, eventually he’ll either get over it or not, its his problem.” Stiles says in mock assurance as he pushes his tray aside. “Theres nothing that I can really say to him without us fighting. He doesn’t think its right that Allison is getting into all this troule despite the very real kidnap and torture she was totally okay with and I’m too tired and everything hurts and I just want it to be over.”

”If she and Argent left town and never came back I’d be okay with it.”

”You would.”

”I”d be okay not happy. I want that bitch to burn.” Boyd says with odd fire behind his words, Boyd who never really raises his voice or curses. He puts an arm around Erica whose expression has gone soft, sad, and hugs her. “If you hadn't come back...”

There was more to the tape that Stiles wasn’t aware of. He knows that nothing apart from the torture happened to Erica and Boyd but the way some of the hunters had been gazing at her and Stiles could hazard a guess as to what may have almost happened had Stiles not gone back to free them.

And of course Allison had to have known or at the very least would have learned later and not given a damn about. Stiles wishes that he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Allison would have never allowed that to happen but knowing that she’d been the one responsible for Erica, Boyd and Stiles shared trauma? He’s not entirely sure.

They all have scars. Erica has scars are on her face, three razer thin lines down her face somehow still healing and Stiles can only attribute it to slight wolvesbane poisoning. Boyd has dark thick scars going up his arms from the electricity, having gone wild when Erica had been cut and when Brady had stomped on Stiles leg.

”How’s Derek?” Stiles ask having seen neither hide nor hair of the young alpha or undead uncle. “And Peter. Are they driving eachother crazy?”

”They had a meeting with Argent.” Isaac slides Stiles tray right back where it was, in front of Stiles. “You need to eat.”

”Why’d they have a meeting?” Stiles shoves a handful of tots in his mouth. 

* * *

 It takes a while but it goes to court and its through their connections, because of course they have connections, that Allison gets off. Erica actually cries in the courtroom and Stiles knows he’ll never forget the heaving sobs, the crumbling anguish of her face as her mother holds her, shooting Argent the most hateful look imaginable.

Boyd and his father are silent, disappointed as Mrs. Boyd spits on the ground and shouts curses at the Argent’s. Chris Argent takes it all in, his face a steel trap only his eyes are watery and shameful as he could look no one in the eyes. Isaac is there with the Boyd’s, his face red with anger as Allison shamefully looks away from them, her shoulders haunch as she is escorted out of the courtroom.

”You okay son?” His father sounds just as angry as Mrs. Boyd but he holds himself calmly for Stiles sake as the judge quickly jogs out of the room and away from the screaming. 

“I was hoping that this would end a lot differently.” Stiles says honestly, feeling like he might just cry himself as his leg begins to throb, no longer itching in its plastic cast like before. He stands up, stretches and ambles away from his father to Erica, joined by Boyd and an strangely stoic Isaac.

He’s angry enough to spit like Boyd’s mother who has been calmed down enough to begin crying herself. The small woman whom Boyd shares so many features with, cries low and hard. Erica’s mother is off to the side with the Boyd’s slowly soothing the woman as she looks at the group of teenagers.

Mr. Reyes is with Stiles father now and Mr. Boyd consoles his wife thanking Mrs. Reyes for being so kind.

”This is bullshit.” Isaac says furiously. “How the fuck...”

”The Argent’s have money.” Boyd says.

”I say we burn that bitch in her bed.” Erica grumbles from Stiles chest, tightening her grip. “How could this have happened? There was evidence, conclusive, clear evidence!”

”Like I said,” Boyd’s voice goes hard. “Money. The judge couldn’t look at us and practically ran out of the courtroom like her dick was on fire.”

Of course it was money that got Allison off, money that made sure that she’d be fine like the money that his dad was trying his best to make up in order to pay Stiles medical bills on top of what was still owed from Stiles’ mother before she died.

Its hours later when Stiles manages to make it home with his dad, Mrs. Reyes had invited the families to their house, not overly large but homey and smelling like good food. The adults had spoken in the living room while Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Stiles and Erica’s younger brothers had played video games in the recently added Florida-Room which now housed Isaac and his things. 

It was nice to know, Stiles thought happily, that Isaac was being taken care of by pack, that Erica and her family were more than happy to have him and that the house was just three blocks away from Boyd’s house.

* * *

 He lays back on the sofa, pulling the thread bare throw cover over his head with a groan. Stiles leg aches terribly in his cast, he imagines pulling back the velcro and tossing the useless thing across the room as his bones feel like they rattle and his nerves sting with every movement. Stiles knows already that he wont be getting off the sofa any time soon, nothing too unusual lately Stiles has spent more time sleeping in the living room than in his own bed after a long day out.

”You gonna be okay down here?” Its a customary question at best at this point, his father placed a cool glass on the wooden coffee table and Stiles pain meds knowing full well that Stiles will be just fine.

He touches the top of Stiles head peaking out through the throw at least twice before yawning his way up stairs. It isnt too terribly late but it has been a while since both Stilinski’s had been out having any sort of fun. Since Stiles release from the hospital, since Allison had been arrested well, things with the McCall’s had gotten awkward. Scott wasn’t talking to Stiles, his mother was awkwardly dancing around the subject of what really happened and what her son now was and dealing with the heart wrenching mess of those two implications. Stiles knows that she doesn’t blame him but somewhere in the back of his mind, that sounds an awful lot like Scott, he feels that she does, that she knows that Stiles is directly responsible for Scott being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It feels like forever when Stiles pulls his throw blanket off his face and stares up at the darkened ceiling. He looks to his left at across the coffee table to his television and sees 9:15 glaring bright blue back at him from the VCR. Sitting up long enough to pry opened his pill bottle for his meds and drown two down with a sip-knowing full well that the doctor prescribed one pill twice a day and not two whenever-Stiles lays back again and shuts his eyes.

Despite the fact that the adults and Erica’s little brothers had tried to make the day fun, and they well and truly had for the most part, Mrs. Reyes cooking was the absolute best and Stiles was determined to darken the Reyes’ doorstep for more dinner time, there was a part of his thoughts that had now begun to bleed in through to the forefront; Allison had gotten off with community service. 

A proven vicious and calculated kidnapper was out in the streets almost completely free, the person directly responsible for Stiles permanent scars and busted leg, for the scars on Erica’s face and the ones marring Boyd’s arms, for Isaac’s constant fear of losing them and for Derek’s added guilt all because Derek had saved Scott and had accidentally bitten Allison’s mother trying to defend himself and Scott because she’d decided to break code...

Code, Stiles thought with rage, fuck the code. The code meant nothing, it was just a little window dressing, an excuse for monsters dressed as people to do monstrous things. Stiles hated the Argent’s every single one beginning with the perverted psychotic Kate, to her crazed and abusive father to Chris Argent and his sad pathetic apologetic expressions and finally to Allison, with her sweet, lying, vicious and murderous little dimpled face, he hated the entire God forsaken family and prayed they’d all go back to France and choke. Stiles knew that stewing in anger would get him nowhere, that it would make him bitter and lash out but it felt so good to inwardly curse them.

He knew that it was a matter of time before Scott came back around to wax poetic about his psychotic girlfriend and to pretend that everything was alright. Nothing would be alright, in fact nothing would ever be the same again. Stiles would remember what they did to him in that basement for the rest of his life, he would have a scar at his jaw for the rest of his life, he would be forever reminded that Scott had chosen Allison and her family over him and that Scott had known that Allison had strung up Erica and Boyd in her basement...that he had not cared at all about them possibly being murdered was what really got to Stiles and all because he didn’t really know Erica and Boyd and because Stiles would eventually heal.

Scott was the good one, he was kind and sweet and generous but now the image of Scott was replaced. Stiles might have been the meaner one, the sarcastic and genuinely unpleasant one in their little duo but Scott was a snake, a snake for a girl he’d known for only a few very short months!

A knock on the door pulls Stiles away from his deprecation and it takes him a good few minutes to pull himself up. Whoever was on the other side of the door knocked once more to let him know that they were still there but seemed to not push more urgently, it must be someone who knows about Stiles leg, who knows he can’t move around so easily anymore. He hobbles to the door and is surprised to find Lydia Martin standing on the other side sans makeup or fancy clothes. Shes dressed in drab yet expensive looking sweat pants and a loose tee, the neck far to big showing the strap of her vibrant lime green sports bra. He lets her in and she follows him to the living room.

”Want a drink?”

”No, I mean, yes. I can get it.” Lydia says nervously standing at the arm of the sofa and peering into the kitchen. “You look beat.”

”I am.” Stiles gestures for her to follow him into the kitchen and sits at the old wood chair at the table. “Cups are in the dishwasher, we haven’t gotten around to unloading yet. We’ve got juice if you want.”

”Thank you.”

They sit in silence at the table, the low hanging light is not bright enough to be distracting but not dim enough to set unnerving shadows. Lydia sips and Stiles waits for her to speak he can imagine a few of the things she wants to say, maybe plead Allison’s case to him so that he can forgive her, maybe Allison had asked her to do it. He wouldn’t be surprised.

”Jackson wanted to come.” Lydia says surprising Stiles. “But I didn’t think it was a good idea with the restraining order being lifted and all. Your dad might have been mad with him here.”

That was true. 

“How are you?” Stiles asks as Lydia turns to look at him sharply.

”How am I? How are you, Stiles? After today I’d expect not very well at all.” Lydia’s jaw ticks. “I can’t believe-no I can believe it. Old money and a well of connections and anyone can get away with just about anything.” 

“You got that right.” Stiles is surprised by Lydia’s tone. He had imagined that Lydia was here to plead Allison’s case, to ask him to forgive her and to try to explain the machinations behind her best friend. 

He tells her this and is rewarded with a snort.

”Are you kidding? Her aunt burns a house down killing everyone inside in the process because they were werewolves. She did that, and I’m not necessarily certain about this theory but going over the information and having met Derek Hale a few times during Jackson’s integration into pack because the idiot wants in again, I can assume that Kate Argent used Derek who would have been fifteen at the time for information.

“Adding to that, Allison would have known all of this maybe, possibly barring Derek’s perhaps intimate part of Kate’s plan and yet she decides complete eradication of Derek’s new pack to get to him...by kidnapping and torturing innocent teenagers, one of which who cannot heal like the others because he’s human? I’ve read up on the code, I translated the beasiary which I still have in my home and made copies, I’ve done my own research and have gleaned as much as possible and I can honestly say...” She shakes her head disappointed. “I didn’t know the real Allison at all. I understand the secrecy involved, that I get but to willingly hurt people, to plot someone’s murder without a moments hesitation to the point that you would do anything to anyone and not give a damn? I never want to be in the same room with her, its like she’s two different people and the one I loved was just a clever lie.”

”I’m so sorry.” Stiles doesn’t know what else to say apart from that because he knows exactly how Lydia feels, that all consuming, fiery betrayal. “I’m a bit responsible for keeping you in the dark to. It was wrong.”

”I told you that I understood why you all lied. What I’m disappointed about has nothing to do with that but the fact that I am usually better at reading people and Allison bypassed all of that, she is exactly the type of person I would have never allowed myself to get to know and yet she had become a friend.”

”Best friend?” 

“Friend. I’ve known her three months don’t you think its a little early to call her my best friend?”

”But the day you met her you said-“

”I liked her outfit, she was dazzling and I wanted to get to know her that’s all.”

They laugh a bit at that, Stiles remembers that day like it was a lifetime ago when he thought he was in love with Lydia Martin. It’s strange sitting with her at his dinner table laughing about nothing particularly funny and not feel that burning need to be around her the way he had before, the feeling that he now understood as hormone driven lust and not necessarily love. He liked her, very much though there was no denying that.

”So Jackson is with the pack? I’m surprised he isn’t sitting with them at lunch or glued to them between classes.”

”He doesn’t want to spook you I think. Jackson is,”

”Complicated.” 

Lydia nods.

”You’ve never really gotten along and with what happened and the things that he was made to do he feels a little out of sorts about everything. He was at the trial.”

”He was?”

Lydia explains that Jackson was sat to the back with his father, that he wanted to be supportive and while Allison hadn't known about Gerard using him that he was still keen to see her punished not because he hated her but because he placed her in the same category as her aunt and grandfather who were both dead and beyond worldly punishment. Allison was still alive and he was determined to see one Argent punished at least, for some sort of closure. When Allison was let off Jackson had immediately walked out of the courtroom completely disgusted.

* * *

 “You look good.” The sheriff says as Stiles slowly makes his way into the kitchen. “That have anything to do with the girl I heard you talking to at two in the morning?”

”Yeah, actually and sorry about that. She came over about nine and we just got to talking.” Stiles sits himself down in front of a steaming place of eggs, waffles and bacon. “You can’t eat any of this.”

”I haven’t.” The sheriff hid his face behind his newspaper as casually as the completely guilty could.

”Seriously dad.”

”I’m seriously admitting to only a slight nibble of a piece of bacon, that’s all.”

”Promise?”

The sheriff put down his paper and made a cross the heart action with his forefinger. Breakfast was eaten in silence but for the first time it wasn’t nervous or heavy silence like it’d been before the trial. Despite Allison getting off way too lightly, the fact that Stiles now had a painful forever reminder of that horrific night in the basement, the trial was over. Even if Allison was out on the streets it wasn’t like she completely got away unscathed. She had no friends apart from Scott now, Lydia and by proxy all of Lydia’s friends had disowned her and Scott, while great company, would wear out his welcome soon. All they had was eachother and their love and that would be fine apart from the very hairy elephant they were not talking about. If a hunter was all the pack Scott needed Stiles was afraid of what that meant for Scott’s future.

”Heather’s coming by.”

”Is she?” Stiles hadn’t seen Heather in about a month, she’d been living with her dad in Fresno and had recently decided to move back, they weren’t as close the way they were when Stiles mom was still alive but Stiles always had a soft spot for Heather and all of her endless patience. “Should I be afraid now or after I figure out how to fill the fridge with as much casserole as humanly possible?”

”I already cleared out two shelves and took out the Tupperware for the brownies and cake. She’s...well she’s been worried about you. Her mother says that she’s been keeping away to give you space but you know how sensitive Heather’s always been about you after your mom.”

”Yeah.” Stiles grins. Heather was a worry-wort, simply put and a nervous cooker and baker, to Heather the quickest way to help someone heal was through their stomach. She’d always been that way from the moment her mother had taken her into the back of her bakery and had shown her the ropes to the day Stiles mother, still in good health had bought her an easy bake, a recipe book and a personalized apron for Christmas. “She makes the best Key Lime...doesn’t she, dad?”

”Absolutely to die for.” His father says very seriously. “You remember that peacan pie?” 

“How could I forget. She’d gotten the recipe over the phone from her great aunt and made how many before she got it just right?”

”Secret ingredient? Love, kisses and a little bit of _bourbon_.”

”Heather’s mom was so mad about that.”

”Well who told you kids to go rifling through the liquor cabinet at eight years old.”

”Granny Stackhouse’s peacan pie...” 

Both males grin in remembrance of the pie.

It’s around noon when Heather arrives, frazzled to the core her blonde hair in a messy bun, apron already worn and hand laden with tupperwares of various sizes as she squeezes past him with a boisterous howdy, her friend who introduces herself at the door somewhat sheepishly, is named Danielle and Stiles recognizes her from school. 

“Hey, c’mon in.”

Danielle follows him into the kitchen where Heather is already at work unloading her burden of cookies, brownies and doughnut holes. She peels off her lavender apron, her name glittered in cursive on the front with her mother’s bakery label on the upper right corner, and rifles through his bottom cuboards for pots, pans and anything to cook with. 

“I’ve got groceries in the car, hold on!” She rushes passed them with a slam of the door and Danielle sits awkwardly at the table.

”She’s been at it since last night.” Danielle says at the whirlwind. “She wanted me to come by for moral support but I think that she forgot she needed the moral support and thought that I just wanted to tag along.” Danielle laughs a little nervously. “Sorry for coming in unannounced.”

”No it’s cool. I haven’t actually seen Heather this fired up since Pilot had to be put down.” Stiles sits across from Danielle. “She stayed over and cried all night baking cookies for my mom since mom and Pilot were always together.” Stiles smiles sadly. His mother had loved that wolfhound like it was her second born and when he died she...well she’d already been diagnosed and in the hospital and had died just days after.

”She talks about you a lot, well whenever the photoalbums come out anyway.” She grins. “Lots of accidental fiery kitchen accident pictures with you involved.”

”I am not to blame on that. I swear. Whenever Heather and I were ever in the kitchen she didn’t stop long enough to let me help her with anything. All the damage? Attributed to her.”

The door slams opened and closed, a few voices accompany Heather’s as the pack flood in with Jackson and Lydia this time helping with the bags. Heather is grinning at whatever Boyd is saying and Erica is already peering at the tower of cookie goodness. Isaac waves awkwardly as the settle the bags on the counter.

”Hey guys.” Stiles awkwardly waves and Heather beams at him like she approves. “What’s up?”

”We came by to check on you. Brought some movies.” Lydia lifts her hand, a plain white bag with Burton’s Video emblazoned. “And we ran into your friend trying to carry pretty much everything on her own.”

”Not everything...” Heather’s round race colors slightly because of course she had. “Your friends helped.”

”At the promise of food I’d literally do anything.” Erica says honestly and very seriously. “I swear, it smells like a bakery in here.”

”If Heather has it her way it’ll smell like a bakery for the next month.” Danielle says before introducing herself. She’s not as shy with everyone else around and Stiles thinks that maybe she was a little uncomfortable because of his injuries and what he’d been through. Understandably so, she goes to his school so she has to know just about everything about that night.

”I wouldn’t mind living in a place that smelled like that.” Erica nods.

”You’re a secret foodie aren’t you?” Stiles asks.

”Everyone has their vices. Mine happen to be sweets and I am well aware that I am going to have to eventually lifted from my home by crane but damnit it will be so worth it.”

”And you, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Stiles asks a somewhat silent Jackson who shrugs a shoulder. “I didnt think I’d be seeing you. Derek make you come?”

”No,” He says. “just wanted to tag along. It’s been a while since I’ve seen and mocked your stupid face.”

Heather huffs but Stiles gets it. Jackson can’t suddenly do nice with Stiles, that isn’t the way their relationship worked especially after Stiles mom died. Jackson had thought that Stiles mother hung the moon and always spent recess in the library helping Miss Claudie-as the kids used to call her-stack books or bully her into reading with him. He’d been jealous that Stiles had an awesome mom, Stiles hadn’t understood until he learned about Jackson’s adoption years later but he damage had been done and their relationship set in stone.

”I missed you too boo.” Stiles blows a kiss and then tension between them breaks as Jackson snarls and shoves him, gently, at the shoulder. 

“That’s better. You being quiet instead of insufferable isn’t just wrong.”

”You being away instead of constantly harassing me, I mean you were being considerate Jackson, you’re never considerate I thought the world was ending.”

”Maybe it is, I mean, I’m here aren’t I?”

Stiles grins, the sounds around him converge together and meld into one cloudy sound and all he can think is that he wishes Scott was apart of the moment he was sharing with pack.

* * *

”So you want to take over your moms bakery?”

”Well yeah,” Heather sets to work decorating her latest creation, a triple layered strawberry cake, by carefully dusting it with powdery sugar. “It’s been my dream since mom took me and Stiles into the kitchen.”

”So you bake?” Lydia pokes Stiles side causing him to jump. He glares down at her as she grins sweetly up at him. “That’s so cute.”

”Yeah, well I’m not as good as Heather.”

”No one is as good as Heather.” Danielle pours eight glasses of milk and Stiles is so glad that Heather had the forethought to brig extra jugs. “She’s constantly teaching herself new techniques.”

”That’s great.” Isaac is still mixing his ingredient-cream cheese icing for the cupcakes. “Its nice to always know what you want to do.”

”What do you want to do after college, Stiles?” Erica checks the still baking cupcakes. “I’m thinking about joining the academy after high school.”

”Same.” Boyd says.

”Well, I did too.” Stiles says causing the room to go still and quiet. “But, you know.” He gestures at his leg resting in Boyd’s lap. “Maybe web design now? I don’t know.”

”Web design sounds cool. It’s probably a good job.”

”Yeah,” Lydia agrees.

Jackson looks at him with a frown though which gives Lydia pause like she’s waiting for him to say something and screw up.

”You like baking.” Jackson says blankly.

”Yeah.”

”You’re as good as your friend?”

”Yes...isn’t that what we’ve been saying, Heather?”

”Correct!” Heather side eyes him then Jackson with a glint in her eye, amused by wherever the conversation is going. “You’re the only person I’d trust in the bakery other than mom.”

”Exactly.” Jackson says like it’s obvious and maybe it is. He arches a brow making Stiles feel slow as he flicks Stiles forehead. “Work with Heather in the bakery. I’ve been watching you do your thing with her since I got here and you’re effortless with it. Do that after college.”

”That...is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me Jackson, I’m honestly touched.”

”Shut up.”

The moment is broken by the timer and then the conversation changes to Danielle talking about duel-enrollment courses and how they’re kicking her ass. Stiles is grateful for the change in topic but that doesn’t mean he isn’t considering it. Stiles loves doing research and he knows he’d probably do well in web development but he’s good in the kitchen, he doesn’t have to think too hard, it keeps his mind and hands busy.

Maybe Jackson’s right, maybe he should really consider it, he thinks as he makes eye contact with Heather who winks at him like she knows exactly what he’s thinking. 

“So, whose up for some really cheesy 80’s horror movies?” Erica upends the bag and pulls out on of the Return of the Living Dead movies. “I like this one. Theres a naked dancing zombie in it with really vampy red hair.” 

“So hot...well...until she bites that guys face off.” Isaac agrees as everyone filters into the living room.

”Who says she’s still not hot?” Erica drops in front of the VCR to inject the tape. “I love these movies, its great that they weren’t checked out.”

”Oh yes, zombie movies from the 1980’s however were they still available?” Lydia is sarcastic as she takes a seat with Isaac at the loveseat. “I’d have preferred a different genre but the night isn’t about me.”

”Its about friends and awesome movies, that’s what its about.” Erica pushes the coffee table to the side and sits crossleggd in it’s place, Boyd joining her.

”I like these movies.” Danielle sits beside Heather on the couch with Jackson. “They’re always fun, the effects were pretty good for the time.”

”Practical effects are always a plus. I mean, CGI just clutters the screen and takes away from the horror. Have you seen Hellraiser? Now those practical effects are probably some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

”So is that what you want to do?” Stiles takes his father’s lazy-boy, pulling the lever back to rest his leg. “You want make practical effects for movies? Be a special effects make-up artist?”

”What if I did?” 

“Nothing man, that actually sounds kinda cool.”

Derek shows up halfway though Return of the Living Dead 2. It’s awkward for half a minute before Stiles silently beckons him and pushes over in his seat. It’s a crowded fit but nice with Derek’s warmth at his side, though Stiles refuses to call it cuddling. Heather discreetly gives Stiles a thumbs up but Stiles doesn’t think too much about it, instead he focuses on the movie. It should be strange, weird how they’re sitting so close how they’re practically on eachother’s lap because they’ve never done this, they’ve never touched unless they had too.

This? Decidedly not their thing.

Well it wasn’t their thing.

* * *

 

                                 End of Part One. Part Two Coming Soon.


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